Head in the Clouds
11-30-2013, 03:25 PM
Aranya liked the hills. They were interesting and made the horizon waver this way and that. She could sit and trace the fine line where the terra and the caelum met all day, eyes searching for breaks and discrepancies. The land now was barren, the deep snow broken by lines and lines of animal trails. The hooves were cloven, but it was no deer or elk she had ever smelled before. That morning she had been trekking along the trails, trying to find it's source, but had been distracted by the view. It was not stunning, there were no towering cliffs or waterfalls or volcanoes. It was quite barren, in fact, but she liked it nonetheless. Far away, barren trees scratched upwards like talons of songbirds, and while she knew hills surrounded her, the snow made distinguishing their lines tricky. It became a game, trying to observe the land instead of listening to her eyes. The snow dampened her sense of smell and the glitter of the snow burned her eyes, and a biting wind wove into her coat, but she found herself in a good temper nonetheless. Spring was near at hand, she new that in the same way she knew when the sun would rise, and a few flowers had sprung up through the snow several days past. This cold snap had left some of the frozen, petrified, locked away under a thing crust of ice. The glimmered and glittered in the sun, delighting the young wolf. She had collected a bundle, which now lay at her side, planning to weave them into the lining of the nest she had made last night. She had planned to move today, but how could she now? Not until the flower melted, certainly. They would look to lovely to waste, and she just couldn't bear to leave them. With a grin, she nosed the flowers for the umpteenth time, wondering what smell lay beneath their cruel coating. Spring preserved by the cold, only to be destroyed by the heat. She chuckled at the irony. Speech,Thoughts, |